


Safe and Sound

by leahholmes12



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon, Friendship, Heartbreak, Intense, M/M, Magic, Major character death - Freeform, Marriage, Merthur - Freeform, Sexuality Crisis, canon af
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2019-11-29 02:16:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18216848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leahholmes12/pseuds/leahholmes12
Summary: ** CURRENTLY BEING REWRITTEN AND UPDATED. EXPECT NEW MATERIAL + CONTENT EDITS BEFORE THE NEW YEAR.*When Merlin realizes that this is the end, he starts to cry. He cries for Arthur, for Gwen, for Camelot, but most of all for the deep friendship that became true love that never got to grow. Merlin wraps his arms around Arthur's body, gently pulling the other man close. He's careful not to touch the bloodstained chainmail. "I love you," he whispers. "Don't leave me.""I hope you can forgive me for marrying Gwen," Arthur chokes out. Merlin sees he's crying too. Arthur reaches for Merlin's hand and grasps it tightly. "I've aways, always loved you more."I wanted to return to the canon-verse to write a fic that embodies Arthur and Merlin's intense friendship. I plan to loosely follow the series, interjecting Merlin/Arthur moments. This fic begins just after S2E1.





	1. Chapter 1

It’s the time of the year when summer calms into fall. The air begins to crispen, the leaves have started show the first hints of color, and the palace is preparing for the annual beginning of harvest feast. Merlin watches a cart full of summer’s sweet corn, tomatoes, and watermelon being unloaded from Arthur’s window, a small grin on his face. Despite having to work along with the other servants during the meal, he looks forward to stealing bits off vegetables from Arthur’s plate after he’s too drunk to notice. With any luck, Gaius may intercept some of the deliveries throughout the day to scavenge for a few extra dinners between the two of them. 

He brings his attention back down to the task at hand. Arthur managed to rip the seam of another shirt yesterday during training. And thus, Merlin is back to threading a needle through an impossibly small hole and stabbing the material (and his fingers) in a clumsy attempt to mend it. In the past, he’d used magic as an aid, but with the number of servants coming and going through Arthur’s chambers delivering clothes and shoes, he decided against it this time. Besides, there’s something satisfying in making the tear disappear. 

Once the shirt is mended, Merlin carefully folds it and slides it back into place amongst its friends. He tugs out a set of Arthur’s nicest clothes to lay out for this evening. Judging by the position of the sun, Merlin guesses he has another hour or so before he should expect Arthur to return from training. Just so he doesn’t have to worry about it later, he drags out the wash basin and sets out Arthur’s flowery, borderline feminine, soaps. After carting water up from the lower floors, Merlin’s completely exhausted. Again, too many other servants around to do any magic to lighten the load. However, if he’s quick and quiet enough, he can mutter a quick enchantment to heat it up just before Arthur returns. 

It’s a strange thing, looking after your best friend in such a way that Merlin does. In a way, he loves the mundane tasks of daily life for Arthur. It’s calming and reassuring for someone who’s used to being on their toes at home in Ealdor. It also makes him feel needed and, at times, appreciated. Since Arthur will never know of Merlin’s magic, it’s nice to be recognized for something. 

Merlin is adamant in thinking that Will was his first true friend. But Arthur... With Arthur, it’s entirely different. Merlin cares for him in a deeper way than he’d ever cared for Will. Even though Arthur is a complete and utter prat, Merlin sees him like a brother. He doesn’t want to imagine a life where he doesn’t have Arthur calling him an idiot, ordering him around and occasionally having a laugh together. 

Suddenly, Merlin can hear the metallic clang of Arthur’s armour from ascending the staircase. Quickly, the water in the bath is heated and Merlin pretends to be just setting out the bath materials. Arthur enters the chambers in a jumble of sweat and metal. His blonde hair is plastered to his forehead in clumps, his skin just as shiny as the armour. A faint beard dusts his jaw. “Merlin, get me out of this.”

“Please,” Merlin quips as he stands and walks over to the prince. “You could say please every once in a while.” His deft fingers begin to work at the ties to free Arthur, a task he’s become quite good at. 

“Fine. Merlin, will you please do your job and get me out of this shit?” 

With a clank, the first layer of metal falls to the floor. “You certainly smell like it,” Merlin retorts, gagging slightly at the oder that raises from Arthur’s newly exposed (and soaked with sweat) shirt. 

Arthur rolls his eyes and replies with a very light wack to the back of Merlin’s head. Instead of yelping in pain, Merlin chuckles along with Arthur. 

Merlin carefully finishes removing all of the chainmail and nudges it with his toe into a pile by the door. Just as he finishes getting the foul-smelling armour as far as possible from him, a wet cloth hits the back of his neck and Arthur’s shirt now lays at his feet. A few seconds later the trousers follow, along with the undergarments. As he bends to pick them up, he says, “You know, you’re perfectly capable of putting your own clothes into your own basket.”

“But what’s the fun in that?” Arthur calls as he lowers himself into the bath. 

Merlin finishes cleaning up the trail of mess that’s followed Arthur and takes a seat in a chair by the bath. Luckily, Arthur’s not too spoiled to wash himself. Merlin reflects back to the early days of his servitude, back when Arthur would dress and wash from behind a screen, completely hidden from view. A year and a half later, it’s a rare day if he doesn’t see Arthur’s cock wagging about. At times, Merlin wonders if the two of them are a little too comfortable with each other. What would Uther think if he paid a visit to his son, only to find him standing stark naked with his servant sitting no more than a few feet away? 

The sounds of Arthur’s washing fills the room. After ten or so minutes of relaxed semi-silence, Merlin asks, “How was training?”

Arthur looks. “Well, I’m beginning to wonder how on earth the knights are meant to defend Camelot. Half of them can’t properly hold a sword.”

“Mm,” is all Merlin can say to that, having little knowledge about that subject himself. 

“I can only hope that I can whip them into shape before some decides to invade us.” Arthur begins to massage soap into his hair, which usually is Merlin’s sign to bring over the new set of clothes. After a moment’s pause to rinse out the soap, Arthur continues, “Many of them would rather drown themselves in a pint at the pub than learn to fight.” 

Merlin offers his arm to help Arthur from the tub and hands him a fresh towel. “Well, can you blame them? I’d certainly rather be drunk than picking up your dirty laundry.”

Arthur runs the towel down his arms and over his torso. “I wouldn’t know. It’s not like I can just walk down the street to the pub whenever I wish.”

Merlin isn’t sure what to say to that. Part of him feels bad for Arthur, living a secluded and scheduled life up in the castle. He’s seen how the burden of responsibility crushes Arthur at times. In a way, it breaks his heart. He knows firsthand what it’s like to carry an impossible destiny. 

Arthur finishes drying the rest of his body and tosses the towel to Merlin. “Part of me wishes I was able to live that kind of life,” he nearly whispers. “I wish I knew what it’s like to have friends.”

This kind of conversation isn’t entirely unusual. A few months ago, Arthur expressed the same wish after doing the nightly rounds for misbehavior in the lower town. It was just a muttered sentence before bed, one that Merlin wasn’t sure he was meant to hear. There are some things that money and power can’t buy, and it seems more and more that those things are what Arthur truly wants. To Merlin, that shows very much about Arthur’s character. 

“You have me,” Merlin quietly replies, holding out Arthur’s shirt to him. He gently helps Arthur into it, as usual, and discretely checks to see if any mending is necessary. Thankfully, this shirt is still intact. But knowing Arthur, he gives it another week or two before it’ll be out of commission. 

Arthur won’t meet Merlin’s eye, a rare sight. It’s one of those infrequent moments where one can see how emotionally vulnerable Arthur really is. “You’re different.”

“Because I’m your servant?” 

“Because I… care for you.”

Merlin passes Arthur his undergarments and trousers, letting the prince take care of putting on those himself. “I care for you too, Arthur. Quite literally, I might add.” 

Arthur shakes his head. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

That’s something Merlin can relate to. His relationship with Arthur is like nothing he’d ever experienced. “You don’t have to.”

A moment of silence falls between the two of them as Arthur finishes dressing. Merlin moves to dump the bathwater from the window and put away the soaps and towels. He’s aware of Arthur watching him, which is nothing unusual, and feeds the fire before turning back. A quick glance outside shows that many of the townspeople are beginning to enter the castle, thus signalling the beginning of the feast. They’d better start making their way down. Gwen’s probably looking for him to help look after the head table. In an effort to move Arthur along, Merlin plops the man’s boots down in front of him and motions to step into them. “Alright, let’s get a move on, Arthur.”

Arthur meets Merlin’s gaze and something passes between the two of them. A long moment of quiet follows, a silence conversation happening between the men. Merlin sees the longing in Arthur’s eyes for someone to hold him, to love him in the way that Uther never has. Arthur sees the loneliness in Merlin’s eyes, one that matches his own. In that moment, something changes.

Arthur’s hand brushes Merlin’s. “You’re such an idiot,” the prince softly says, smiling softly. It’s something that’s been said to Merlin so often it no longer has any effect on him. Arthur shakes his head, chuckling, “But you’re the best thing I’ve got.”

The man kneels down to lace of his shoes. But in a voice barely above a whisper, Arthur says, “I think I love you.” 

And to Merlin’s astonishment, he finds himself whispering back, “I think I love you too.” 

Arthur’s head snaps up and again, their eyes meet in an intense look. It’s as if the two of them are both evaluating what they just said, both equally as confused. Arthur hastily stands so he’s only a few inches from Merlin. “I don’t know why I just said that.”

Merlin nods. “I’m asking myself the same thing.”

“Do you mean it?” Arthur asks. 

After a moment of contemplation, Merlin replies, “Yes. I do. You’re my best friend.”

“You’re mine too,” Arthur says. He looks rather uncomfortable. “But that’s pretty pathetic, huh? I’m the prince of Camelot and my best friend is a servant.”

But then it feels as though a force is pulling the two of them together. Arthur starts to lean forward and Merlin’s body reacts, doing the same. A few seconds later, their lips lightly brush. It feels wrong, but at the same time it feels like a piece of Merlin finally slid into place. 

Arthur quickly straightens up and away from Merlin. He clears his throat. “We should be going downstairs.” Before Merlin has a chance to react, Arthur is out the door. 

What had just happened? Did he and Arthur just kiss? It doesn’t feel real. Merlin has never been attracted sexually towards men, and he knows for a fact that Arthur loves sex with women. Now, there’s a clear label on his feelings towards Arthur - love. He loves Arthur, and Arthur loves him. That doesn’t necessarily mean he wants to be… intimately involved with Arthur though. He loves his mum, and that doesn’t mean he wants to sleep with her. But are both men confusing friendship with love? Can a friendship be so intense that it feels like love? 

But what if he does want to be with Arthur... in that way?

Merlin shakes the thought from his head. He really must be getting downstairs; surely Arthur has arrived and Gwen is wondering about Merlin’s whereabouts. With a quick wave of his hand, he clears the bath and associated supplies and is out the door. 

The feast is like any other in Camelot. There is an abundance of delicious food and wines while various performers entertain the guests. Uther, Arthur, and Morgana sit at the head table, each with the glow of alcohol. Merlin’s refills Arthur’s goblet three times throughout the course of the evening. Arthur’s demeanour has changed from his usual jovial self. He sits quietly, only occasionally speaking to Uther or Morgana, and never uttering a word to Merlin. He’s in the room, but he definitely isn’t present. His eyes are far away. Even Gwen notices. 

That night, Merlin follows Arthur back to his chambers. The man wavers with the gait of a drunk and smells sweet like wine. Twice, Merlin has to stabilize Arthur from falling back down the stairs they’d climbed. Both times, Arthur jerks away from Merlin’s touch. 

Merlin closes the door behind the two of them once they arrive in Arthur’s room. The prince immediately struggles with yanking off his shirt, and to avoid getting pushed away again, Merlin lets him rip the seam as he violently tugs if off. Instead, he prepares a large goblet of water and a few crackers to force down Arthur’s throat. He’s notorious for his awful hangovers, and Merlin doesn’t fancy walking into a room full of sick in the morning. 

Arthur throws open his closet and pulls out his bedclothes. Without Merlin’s help, it takes him five clumsy minutes to change into them. The man collapses onto his bed, facedown on the pillow.

“Arthur,” Merlin gently says. “Please do me a favor and eat this.” He places the crackers and water on the nightstand. 

“No,” Arthur defiantly replies, voice muffled through the pillow. 

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Arthur. Don’t be unreasonable.”

“Merlin. Don’t be a fucking annoying clotpole.”

Merlin rolls his eyes. “On the contrary, I think you’re being the ‘fucking annoying clotpole’ right now.” He stomps away like a child, clearly fed up with Arthur’s unnecessary abuse. He knows it stems from their interaction earlier and would rather have a conversation about it when Arthur’s sober (and not hostile). 

And then the goblet hits him in the back of the head. Hard. 

Calmly, Merlin picks up the goblet and places it on the table in the center of the room. He takes a deep breath before turning back to the prince. Arthur lays on his side now, with his head propped up on the pillows and a hand covering his face. 

“Do you want to talk about what happened earlier?” Merlin tries. He hates talking to drunk Arthur; it’s like trying to reason with a toddler. But if it gets Arthur to sleep, then so be it. 

Arthur pulls the hand across his own face so Merlin can see the shiny wetness of his eyes. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Merlin takes a step forward but is very aware of the metal plate inches from Arthur. He doesn’t fancy another bruise and makes a quick note of where both of Arthur’s hands are. “We can pretend it never happened.”

“But it did happen.” Arthur sits up, leaning his head against the headboard of the bed. “And I think I liked it.” His voice is exasperated. 

Slowly, Merlin moves to sit on the edge of Arthur’s bed, far from him. He’s still worried about that damn plate connecting with his face. Arthur’s eyes flit over to Merlin briefly before going back to staring at the wall. “I think I liked it too.”

A small tear rolls down Arthur’s cheek. “Well, that’s fucking brilliant, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know.”

Arthur wipes his face with the back of his hand, and his expression hardens. “This has to be our secret. And it can’t happen again.”

Merlin completely understands. He knows how important it is for Arthur to lead his kingdom after Uther passes, and it’s impossible to gain his people’s trust if he’s breaking a taboo such as being in a homosexual relationship with a servant. “I agree.”

“You’re still my best friend.” 

“And you are still mine,” Merlin says with a smile. “Now, you need to eat those crackers otherwise you’ll be really sick tomorrow.”

Arthur returns the smile and rubs his hand across his face once more. “You’re right.” 

And Merlin finishes putting Arthur to bed - his best friend, his other half, and as he will learn later, the complete love of it life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to closely pair this chapter with S2E2: The Once and Future Queen leading into S2E3. I tried a new format for this chapter, where it is broken up into scenes that correspond a different portion of the episode. 
> 
> Scene 1: This occurs just after 40:21.  
> Scene 2: This occurs during the bit at 40:21.   
> Scene 3: This occurs just after 42:30  
> Scene 4: This occurs the night in S2E3 when Morgana’s room catches on fire. 
> 
> Please let me know how you feel about this set up in the comments. It's just an idea I was trying out to try and keep this as canon as possible.

In the few weeks since the kiss, Merlin and Arthur’s friendship has returned to normal. There were a few awkward moments, but overall nothing has outwardly changed. They kid around, they annoy the hell out of each other, and Arthur is back to pelting clothes and other small objects whenever Merlin’s back is turned. 

Arthur had spent the last few days with Gwen, hiding away so he could participate in a jousting tournament while disguised as a farmer. Merlin should be thankful for a bit of time off, since he didn’t need to draw Arthur’s bath, pick up his food, make up the bed, etc. However, he misses spending every waking minute with Arthur. He didn’t realize how much he liked chatting with Arthur before bed or how much he missed being the one to nudge him awake in the morning. Again, it’s really weird to be looking after his best friend in such a close way, but Merlin wouldn’t change a thing. They haven’t brought up that evening where their friendship overflowed into something more. 

Merlin thinks about The Kiss in fleeting moments, about how it felt to share an intimate moment with his prince. He often wonders what it would be like to do it again, and then he feels shameful afterwards. He knows he isn’t supposed to think about his master in ways such as that. Arthur is Merlin’s prat, and Merlin is Arthur’s idiot. And Merlin likes it that way for now. 

 

**\-- Scene 1 --**

 

After the conclusion of the jousting tournament and the arrest of Myror, Merlin follows Arthur back up to his chambers to quickly doctor up Arthur’s injured shoulder. As the crowd cheered for the farmer, both men quickly ran back up to the castle. Gwen was not happy to be left behind, having suddenly grown attached to Arthur. It was a little annoying in Merlin’s opinion. He’s the only one who gets to look after Arthur. 

By some miracle, the pair are able to get back into the castle with minimal interaction with the guards. Arthur exaggerated his pain, thus increasing the urgency and forcing the guards to let them through without many questions. Luckily, Uther and Morgana are still down at the tournament so there is no threat of crossing paths with any of them. Regardless, both men breathe a sigh of relief once Arthur’s chamber doors close and lock behind them. Arthur immediately sinks down into a chair, the pain evident across his face. Underneath all the armour, it’s impossible to tell if the shoulder is dislocated, bruised, or something more serious. Merlin begins to undo the straps connected the outer layers to examine it closer.

“I’m gonna need to take a better look,” he explains when Arthur places his hand on Merlin’s, stopping the motion. “We can put it back on after. Pretend we just arrived back.”

 

Arthur nods. “Fair enough.” He relaxes underneath Merlin’s hands. 

Merlin drops Arthur’s armour on the floor. It clatters loudly to the floor at his feet, emitting a stench fouler than that radiating off the prince. “You reek.”

“Thanks,” Arthur mutters. “I did just win a tournament. Plus, I slept on the floor last night.” 

Merlin snorts in reply and returns back to the task at hand. The smell only increases when Merlin moves to peel off the inner layer of chainmail off, mixing sweat with fresh blood. Arthur winces as he lifts his arm and Merlin gently helps the man pull his arm back out, his fingers as light as possible against the man’s skin. In silence, Merlin helps Arthur out of his shirt so the prince sits before him naked from the waist up. “Is it okay if I touch it?” Merlin asks, gesturing towards Arthur’s shoulder. 

The man reluctantly nods. He’s quiet, save for a few quick withdraws of breath when Merlin touches a tender spot. It’s quite unlike Arthur, who loves to loudly criticize everything Merlin ever does. After cleaning up the open wounds and washing away any of the excess blood, Merlin concludes, “I think it’s just badly bruised. We can tie a sling for you to -”

Arthur suddenly interrupts Merlin with, “I kissed Gwen.” 

Merlin hesitates for a second, his fingers still resting on Arthur’s collarbone. His stomach drops ever so slightly when he hears that, but he hasn’t a clue why. But suddenly, the shy looks Gwen had been giving Arthur and her exaggerated anxiety throughout the whole tournament makes sense. It’s shocking to Merlin, yet he can’t say it’s a complete surprise either. Gwen seemed to quickly shift her affections away from Merlin after kissing him months ago. All he can manage to Arthur for a response is, “Oh?” 

“I kissed her, and I liked it.” Arthur shoots a look up to Merlin, as if to challenge him to say otherwise. When Merlin doesn’t reply, the prince goes back to staring straight ahead at the wall. It irks Merlin. Arthur never spoke about his romantic life with Merlin; the only information Merlin typically receives is what he overhears between Arthur and the knights or what he hears from the servant girls’ gossip. Gwen’s name never had come up in any of those conservations before; this has to have been a one time only event. And the fact that now, after they’d shared one quick moment together, Arthur choses to discuss his personal life? It seems a little suspicious. Perhaps this is Arthur’s way to reaffirm his masculinity. Perhaps this is his way of telling Merlin that their moment meant nothing to him. 

Merlin tugs a clean shirt back over Arthur’s head and over his hurt shoulder. He feels spiteful and slightly irritated that Arthur told him this. Merlin provoke Arthur with, “I kissed her first. Last year.”

Arthur quickly turns his head towards the other man, wincing loudly at the pain it inflected in his shoulder. The look of surprise on his face is priceless. “What?”

Merlin smiles triumphantly and bring Arthur’s chainmail back over. “I said, I kissed Gwen last year. Before you.”

“Well, it’s nice to know that her standards have raised since then,” Arthur quickly shoots back, standing up. He takes the chainmail from Merlin, practically yanking it out of his grasp, and puts it on. The pain from the action is clear across Arthur’s face, but the prince does not comment on it. In fact, he seems content just grumbling under his breath about something Merlin can’t understand. He upset the dressing Merlin had just applied and fresh blood bleeds through the bandages. Arthur doesn’t visibly notice, so Merlin lets it go. It wasn’t deep enough to cause any threat other than unsightliness. 

“Jealous?” Merlin picks up the last bit of armour and moves towards the prince, gesturing with it. This is something he’s going to have to help Arthur with, whether he likes it or not. It’s not an easy task even for men with two good shoulders. 

Arthur scoffs, “You wish.” He lets Merlin fasten the shoulder piece on and stares angrily ahead. When Merlin comes around to face him and adjust the placement of the straps, Arthur won’t look him in the eye. 

“Well, no matter what you say or do,” Merlin sings, “I still kissed her first.” He turns around to grab a cloth to fashion into a sling, but second later he’s down on the floor. Arthur had kicked his knees in and was chuckling quietly to himself. 

“Perhaps,” Arthur calls down to him, “But she’s clearly moved onto better men. You’re built like a knobby tree and kiss like a toad.” 

Merlin quickly scrambles back up and grabs the rag. He’s slightly hurt from Arthur’s comment; it hits a little too hard now. He tosses the cloth over to the prince, a little harder than necessary. “Speaking from experience, I see.”

The look Merlin receives from the prince is enough to send his blood cold. He’d broken their agreement not to mention that moment and it’s clear that Arthur does not appreciate it. Arthur narrows his eyes and says, “Bring that up again and I’ll put you back in the stocks. For a week. And the fruit won’t be rotten this time.”

The threat is empty and Merlin knows it. As usual, Arthur wants to avoid addressing his feelings and deflect the attention onto someone else. But regardless, Merlin can’t resist in teasing Arthur further by saying, “Well, all I can say is that you didn’t give me a fair chance.”

Arthur immediately reaches and grabs Merlin by the elbow with his good arm. He pulls the man close and presses his mouth to the other’s. Merlin’s body tenses in reaction, but then relaxes once he feels Arthur do the same. They stand there, kissing with their mouths closed and their hands by their sides (save for Arthur’s hand tightly on his elbow). It’s tender, it makes something stir deep in Merlin’s belly, and it makes his heart rate accelerate faster than ever. He likes it. 

Suddenly, Arthur breaks the kiss and clears his throat. “There. Now you can’t say I didn’t give you a fair chance. And I still conclude that you kiss like a toad.”

Merlin blinks, still dazed and confused by what had just happened. “What just -”

“Fix my sling. Now,” Arthur orders, and by the tone in his voice Merlin knows not to say another word. 

Without speaking, Merlin ties a neat sling for Arthur. He doesn’t look the man in the eyes, and it looks like Arthur is trying hard to do the same. When Merlin finishes, he steps away from Arthur, eager to get going down to see Uther. It would save them from standing in uncomfortable silence as they are now. He searches for a task to complete in the meantime to busy his hands and mind.

“I’m going to tell Gwen it meant nothing,” Arthur says in a low voice just as Merlin bends down to collect Arthur’s soiled shirt. “I’m going to tell her nothing will ever become of us.”

Merlin walks quickly across the room to dispose of the material and to hide his face. He isn’t upset that Arthur is calling it off with Gwen; he just wants to hide the flush in his face when he thinks about anyone kissing Arthur. In a clear, yet strained voice, he replies, “Why?”

“Because nothing can - she’s a servant. My father will never approve,” Arthur states matter of factly. A beat later, he continues with, “And I think we need to sort out what just happened before I pursue other women.”

Merlin’s stomach drops and he turns his head to look over at the prince. “Sort it out? What’s there to sort out? We just kissed. That’s all.” 

Arthur’s face turns immediately stoic. The prince rolls his shoulders back, stands straight, ignores Merlin’s question, and walks briskly over to the door. “Let’s go greet my father.” 

Before Merlin could reply, Arthur is out the door and quickly walking towards the stairs. Merlin trots after him, as usual, and doesn’t bring it up again. 

 

**\-- Scene 2 --**

 

In court, Merlin keeps a good distance, standing a few feet away with Gaius, while Arthur talks with his father about the day’s events and the fake battle Arthur had with a very vicious, very imaginary foe. If Gaius has noticed the twinge of pink at the tips of Merlin’s ears, he doesn’t say anything. Arthur certainly doesn’t appear any different; he holds himself with the same air of confidence (and arrogance) he usually does. Even wearing the sling and with hair a windswept mess, he looks completely normal. There’s no indication of what had just happened moments before. Uther and Arthur discuss for ten minutes too long while the servants and other court members stand idly by. 

Morgana is present, which means Gwen is too. Merlin steals glances over at the girl across the hall and isn’t surprised to see that her gaze is set on Arthur. In a way, Merlin feels bad for her. She’s clearly smitten with the prince, unbeknownst to her that he would be calling it off later that day. However, the small looks Arthur sends over to Gwen throughout the meeting infuriate him. It feels like Arthur is trying to throw Gwen back in his face, that he’s trying to show Merlin that he means nothing. Of course, he knows it means nothing. But they haven’t talked about anything, they haven’t addressed what happened… It just makes Merlin feels like shit. Is this… is this jealousy? 

He tries not to dwell on that thought - for he doesn’t want to look into himself to pull forth any meaning. Merlin isn’t homosexual. Arthur isn’t homosexual. They merely shared an intimate moment, one where their friendship was confused with something else. That’s all it was. 

When Arthur and Uther depart from the room, the rest of court follows. Merlin hangs back with Gaius while Gwen scurries past the others. Merlin looks down at his shoes as he and Gaius walk out to avoid seeing Arthur speaking to Gwen (as he knows Arthur must be doing, Gwen looked determined to catch him). He feels sad knowing that Gwen will have her feelings crushed. She’s such as sweet, wonderful girl who deserves the best - just not Arthur right now, it appears. 

Reluctantly, Merlin bids Gaius a goodbye when they reach the staircases. As if sensing Merlin’s moral dilemma, Gaius pats the boy on the shoulder a few times and offers a smile as he says goodbye. Merlin nods and hops up the stairs with his usual quick gait and down the long hallway, around the corner, and through the door to Arthur’s chambers. 

 

**\-- Scene 3 --**

 

He closes the door behind himself out of habit, and without looking for Arthur, begins to pull out the washbasin. He could barely stand the smell of the prince earlier and imagines that Arthur must feel the same about himself. 

From somewhere behind him, Arthur calls his name. 

Merlin turns around and comes face to face with the prince. He stands a mere foot or two away (how on earth did Merlin not smell him?) with his hair pushed back off his forehead. A quick scan shows he’s had the decency to wash the dirt and sweat off his face since arriving back.

“Bath?” Merlin asks, motioning towards the tub. “You need one. You smell worse than the -” 

“Kiss me,” Arthur suddenly. “I want you to kiss me. I want to know if it was a fluke last time.”

Merlin blinks in surprise. “What fluke? What the hell?”

Arthur is unwavering. “That’s an order, Merlin.”

“Maybe after -”

“No. Now. I have to know.”

Merlin cannot believe his ears. A large part of him had hoped they’d just forget what happened and return back to their normal. A small part of him had secretly wanted to hear those exact words. He’d also wondered if this was just a weird odd chance, a mere product of his loneliness and need to be loved by someone other than his mum. He’d wondered if this had only happened because his closest friend is Arthur, and that their lives are so interconnected. They are the two sides of the same coin, after all.

So, like a good friend, he raises his eyes to meet Arthur’s. “Are you sure?”

The man looks just as apprehensive and desperate as Merlin feels, as if he is also having the same mental dilemma. “Yes.”

Merlin takes a small step forward and slowly, hesitantly, lifts his hand to the back of Arthur’s neck. It’s wet with a new layer of fresh sweat. He has to bend his head down ever so slightly in order to match his mouth with Arthur’s. In response, Arthur tilts his chin upwards. Awkwardly, their noses knock, a result of overcorrection on Arthur’s part, and they settle a mere centimeter apart. Merlin can feel Arthur’s hot breath on his mouth. His heart feels as though it will beat out of his chest. 

He moves his mouth to bridge the gap. 

They stand there with Merlin’s hand on Arthur’s neck for a couple of seconds. Subtly, Merlin feels a light touch on his neck and knows that Arthur’s doing the same to him. It feels like ages before the kiss breaks. 

Both men straighten up and Merlin takes a solid step back away from Arthur. He avoids Arthur’s gaze and turns to continue preparing a bath to give himself a few minutes to process. He’s pulling the heavy tub across the room to the fireplace when Arthur asks, “Did you like it?” 

Merlin pauses. Did he like it? Yes. Does he want to admit it? No. Arthur is his best friend, his confidant, the only person who he deeply cares for other than his mum and Gaius. He doesn’t want to ruin that. But at the same time, he doesn’t want to lie to Arthur. And from the pleading tones in Arthur’s voice, if he denies it then Arthur will be completely distraught thinking something is terribly wrong with himself. Afterall, it’s completely unheard of a prince enjoying homosexual endeavors (or of anyone other than the skeevy prostitutes in the lower town). Somehow, that’s more concerning to Merlin. He doesn’t want Arthur to think he’s going through this alone. He doesn’t want Arthur to hate himself, to think he’s sick. His duty is to stand by Arthur’s side, and hell, he’s going to. If Arthur doesn’t agree, the worst that can happen is they’d feel awkward for a few weeks. 

So Merlin looks back over at Arthur. Despite Arthur’s pristine posture and stoic expression, Merlin can tell there’s a lot mentally weighing on his answer. “Yes.”

Arthur doesn’t smile. He doesn’t react. He simply nods and says, “Please help me out of this. I need to bathe.” 

Merlin does just that. The men are silent as Merlin undresses Arthur, prepares the bath, and helps the prince in. He places warmed towels and bottles of water on Arthur’s shoulder to bring down the swelling while the prince stares blankly ahead at the flickering fire. 

When Arthur is dressed and a new, clean sling is tied to keep his hurt shoulder in place with fresh bandages on the flesh wounds, Merlin busies himself with cleaning up and listening for the cook’s servant to bring up Arthur’s dinner. While he’s accomplishing these little tasks, Arthur remains slumped in a chair with his head in his hand. He looks exhausted and Merlin can second with that. It’s been a long few days. 

“Is there something wrong with us, Merlin?” Arthur whispers.

Merlin places Arthur’s full laundry basket onto the table. He pretends to be very interested in the pattern on Arthur’s nightshirt to give himself time to formulate an answer. Is there something wrong with them? He knows it isn’t natural for men to enjoying kissing each other. He also knows he doesn’t want to put Arthur through any kind of mental crisis; the man goes through enough as it is. He speaks the truth when he replies, “I think parts of us just got confused. We’re close friends, maybe that closeness made us feel differently than how we actually do.”

Arthur nods and makes a sound of approval. “Like last time, nobody must know about this. If it gets out, I will deny it and you will be dismissed.” 

Merlin understands. There’s a lot weighing on this, after all. “Of course.”

Not a word is exchanged between the two men for the rest of the evening. Both of them seem to be consumed in their own private thoughts - probably about the same topic. Merlin sets out Arthur’s dinner, lays out his nightclothes, and bids Arthur an early goodnight. Typically, this is unheard of. Arthur always seems to prefer Merlin’s company up until he climbs into bed, but the prince does not try to keep Merlin from leaving. It appears that both of the men need some time to think things over separately. 

 

**\-- Scene 4 --**

 

After two weeks, the men still haven’t resolved their feelings. They haven’t spoken a word other than pleasantries and orders since that one evening. It’s weighed on both of them in more ways than one. For Merlin, he feels even more alone than ever. For Arthur, he’s thrown himself into training and his duties as prince. The time they spend together is often just mealtimes and before bed and after waking up. 

The rain keeps Merlin awake one night. He tosses and turns, mind swimming, and unable to even catch five minutes of sweet sleep. His mind reels over many thoughts ranging from his mum, to how he’d love a slice of cake from the kitchens, and how he wishes he and Arthur were still speaking. He painfully misses his best friend. He doesn’t dare think of the kisses; it only hurts him more knowing that they’re the cause of this. 

To try and tire himself, Merlin decides to walk around the empty, quiet, and dark corridors of the castle. After dressing, he takes a lone candle with him as a guide and starts off towards the main castle. When he passes Arthur’s chambers, some thirty minutes later, a force seems to pull him inside. He wouldn’t mind sleeping on the floor, across the room from the prince, just to know that Arthur’s nearby. At the least, it would be nice to sit and have a cup of water before heading back to his own bed. The night guards don’t seem at all concerned about Merlin’s presence and wave him through without question. 

The room is dark and Arthur appears to be asleep (his snores give it away). Being close to Arthur, even those he’s completely unconscious, seems to calm Merlin. He feels more in place here than he does in his own room or with Gaius. Tugging out a few of Arthur’s extra blankets from a dresser, Merlin prepares a small nest on the floor across the room by the fire. But, his usual clumsiness results in him knocking over his gobblet of water on the table just before he settles in to rest. The clattering is loud enough to wake up Arthur with a sudden jolt.

He’s rolled out of bed and grabbed his sword from its sheath in a heatbeat. A second later, he’s standing before Merlin with the weapon pointed at his nose. When Arthur realizes it’s just Merlin, he lowers it a few inches. “The fuck, Merlin? What are you doing?” 

“I’m sorry!” Merlin exclaims as he scrambles to pick up the gobblet. “I didn’t think -”

“Were you planning on sleeping in here?” Arthur gestures towards the mess of blankets with the tip of his sword. 

Merlin considers lying to Arthur, saying that he feared the blankets had bed bugs and needed inspection. It had been keeping him up all night. It certainly would save him from the embarrassment of admitting the truth. He desperately doesn’t want to let Arthur know that he misses him; if the feeling isn’t reciprocated, he’d be crushed.

Thankfully, Arthur reads the Merlin’s expression and lowers his sword to the ground. “Come on. I can’t have you sleeping on the floor. You’ll complain all tomorrow otherwise.” Before Merlin could object, Arthur toes the blankets into a pile and uses his sword to push it back across the room to the dresser. Merlin stands in confusion throughout the event. This was not the expected outcome.

“Lets go,” Arthur calls over his shoulder as he places the weapon back into the sheath. “I want to go back to sleep.” He picks up Merlin’s burning candle and takes it with him back to the bed.

Merlin walks over to the bed and tugs off his boots apprehensively. Arthur is arranging a wall of pillows down the center of the bed while Merlin tugs off his jacket and belt. This feels weird. It feels too intimate. But sleepy Arthur doesn’t seem to mind, so Merlin figures he mustn’t either. 

Merlin’s changed the sheets on this bed hundreds of times, yet the bed feels softer than he remembered it to be. He sits on the edge, watching Arthur get settled and pull the blanket up to his waist. This is not what was supposed to be happening.

“Are you coming or what?” Arthur asks as he lays back against the pillows. 

“Yeah,” Merlin replies. He shimmies up to the top of the bed and slips his legs underneath the plush blankets. It’s much finer than any bed he’s ever laid in before. He feels the mattress curve to fit his body. 

Arthur rolls onto his side and props up his head with his hand, looking over at Merlin. “Goodnight, Merlin.”

Merlin turns towards the prince, supporting his head with a propped elbow. “Goodnight, Arthur.” 

Arthur shifts over to blow out Merlin’s candle and they’re enclosed in darkness. Merlin feels the mattress adjust to Arthur’s weight moving back and then he feels Arthur’s hand make contact with his shoulder. The hand slides quickly up Merlin’s neck until Arthur’s thumb rests in the divet of his cheek. 

In the dark, Arthur kisses Merlin. 

“I’m sorry,” Arthur whispers when they part. “I just don’t know what to do… about this.” Merlin feels the prince fall back onto the pillows. “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Merlin quietly replies. 

Arthur kisses him again with a quick peck on his lips before rolling away. Merlin is finally able to fall asleep knowing that he’s back by Arthur’s side. The next morning, nobody questions how when the guards come to alert Arthur about Morgana’s fire and find Merlin already there, preparing breakfast.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This occurs during Beauty and the Beast Part 2, when Arthur has his title revoked by Uther.

A few weeks later, it was almost a relief to Merlin when Gwen took an interest in Lancelot, not that he’d ever admit that. It kept the girl from shooting looks at Arthur in the hallways, from sharing awkward smiles, and from lingering visits. Merlin doesn’t like the idea of sharing his master with anyone, but he will go to his grave denying any jealousy. Arthur is his best friend, and he doesn’t like his status to be threatened by any outsiders. He likes the little bubble the two of them share. 

The relationship between prince and servant has not changed. Arthur still harassess Merlin at every opportunity, is sure to chuck at least one item at his head a week, and seldom rewards his servant with a thank you. Merlin still picks up after the messy (and spoiled) prince, sends back witty retorts, and spends every night in his own bed across the castle. There has not been a mention of the night before the fire, where the two of them slept side by side. 

Merlin continues folding Arthur’s clean clothes while the prince stares into the crackling fire. Arthur looks completely exhausted, both physically and emotionally. He’d only just had his status as regent revoked hours ago and been banished back to his chambers. In these dark moments, Merlin tries to provide Arthur compainsionship in silence, unsure of how to comfort him. Touch seems too sacred now to be giving out freely. 

“Sire?” Merlin calls once he’s finished folding the clothes. “Can I get you anything before I leave?”

“Yes, for you to shut up.”

A long pause follows. Merlin awkwardly shifts his weight from foot to foot as he struggles to come up with a clever retort. He opens and closes his mouth as he tries and then concedes with a small shake of his head. Accepting defeat, Merlin decides to save himself some trouble in the morning and begins to carefully put the items in their proper places while keeping an eye on Arthur. He hasn’t moved in almost an hour, save for the rise and fall of his breathing. 

When everything is put away, Merlin starts preparing Arthur’s bed for the night. He arranges the pillows how Arthur likes them and pulls back the decorative blankets and replaces them with a heavy quilt. As an extra touch, he lights a candle and places some water beside the bed. 

It’s getting late. Both men need their sleep to prepare for the challenges of another day until Queen Catrina’s rule. Tentatively, Merlin walks back over to Arthur. He clears his throat to announce his presence and says, “Arthur, I would like to get you prepared for bed now. We both know how you need your beauty sleep.”

Arthur flicks his eyes over towards Merlin and gives a small nod. He hoists himself up with a small groan. He walks to the bed and pulls his shirt over his head. The garment is tossed to the floor for Merlin to retrieve. Arthur sits on the edge of the bed and places his hands in his hands, elbows resting on his thighs. He looks defeated. 

Merlin collects the discarded shirt and places it in the basket before standing beside Arthur. Hesitantly, he sits on the edge of the bed beside him. “Do you want to talk about anything?”

“Nope,” Arthur snaps, sitting up. “Fuck off.” 

Merlin expected that. Arthur, having feelings? Never. “Well, you know I’m always here for you. Metaphorically, of course. I’d like to eventually go to bed.” 

Silence falls between the two of them until Merlin sees Arthur blink away tears. His heart breaks; no man is worth his tears. Hesitantly, Merlin places his hand on Arthur’s forearm. The touch sends every nerve haywire. Arthur doesn’t withdraw, but simply does not acknowledge the other. 

Merlin tries to catch Arthur’s eye rather unsuccessfully. “I can tell that you’re hurting and upset. If you don’t want to be alone, I can set up a pallet on the floor for the night.” 

“You don’t need to do that,” Arthur replies after a moment’s hesitation. “You know you are welcome to share the bed.”

“I didn’t know I was invited.”

“Like I said last time, I can’t have you complaining about your back all day tomorrow.” 

Merlin tries to ignore the butterflies that flutter in his stomach. “Yes, sire.” 

Arthur shakes his head, still not looking over at Merlin. “Call me Arthur. Right now, I’m not your prince.”

“Yes, Arthur,” Merlin replies. He isn’t sure what to do now; he feels awkward (what else is new). “Should I…?” He motions towards his clothing with his free arm. “And the fire.”

Arthur moves his arm away from Merlin’s hand. The latter stands quickly to hurry and prepare the fire for the night. His heart beats fast in his chest while his hands shake. Why is he feeling so jittery? He’s simply performing his duties as manservant and friend. Somehow, the fire is properly contained without any issue.

When Merlin returns to the bed, he finds Arthur already curled up under the blankets with another wall of pillows down the center of the bed. Merlin shrugs off his jacket, shirt, and shoes before climbing in bed as well. It feels just as luxurious as ever, but also just as foreign. 

The candle still flickers at Arthur’s bedside to provide the only light so when Merlin turns to look at the prince, his features are barely distinguishable. But the tear tracks are very clear. 

“I don’t know what I did,” Arthur says in a voice barely higher than a whisper and strained. “I don’t know what I did to make my father suddenly not take my council. It’s never been an issue in the past.” 

Merlin had hoped it would come to this conversation. “You did nothing. I told you that Catrina is a troll. Uther isn’t in his right mind.”

“Not this shit about trolls again, Merlin. I told you I’m fucking tired of hearing about it.” 

Ignoring Arthur, Merlin continues with, “You’re father doesn’t hate you, Arthur. He’s just confused. He will come to his senses soon. I’m sure of it.”

Arthur quickly turns onto his side to face Merlin. “He took my regency and gave it to Catrina. Clearly, I’ve done something.”

“I think you need a good sleep and will feel better in the morning,” Merlin tries. He knows he’ll never win this battle. “Let’s just sleep. We can talk about it in the morning.” 

Arthur rolls over onto his side away from Merlin without uttering another word. The man is so vulnerable that it hurts Merlin to see him so. He’s not used to seeing Arthur like this when he’s usually so confident and sure of himself. Like any good friend, he wants to take the hurt away. Minutes pass in silence and Merlin thinks that Arthur finally fell asleep. He sits up to blow out the candle, reaching over Arthur’s body to do so. With one hand planted beside Arthur’s shoulder to support himself and the other reaching for the candle, he’s diagonal across the bed and the prince’s body. 

After the light is blown out, Merlin shifts his weight so he can settle back into his spot on the other side of the bed. Before he has the chance to move, Arthur flips onto his back and leaves Merlin awkwardly hovering above the prince. He detects Arthur’s gaze despite the near darkness from the dying fire. 

“Um, hi,” Merlin whispers. “I’ll just-”

“Do you remember when you told me you loved me?” Arthur interjects in an equally as quiet voice. When Merlin tries to shift away from the prince, Arthur quickly pushes him back into the awkward, half push-up position where their faces are parallel. 

Well, in all honesty, Merlin had been hoping they’d forget about their confessions. Not talking about that night or the subsequent events has become their norm. It seems they both value their friendship too much to bring up such a… controversial subject. But again, Arthur is hurting and probably thinks his father doesn’t care for him. Merlin couldn’t imagine that pain. So he replies with a simple, “Yes.”

“Do you still love me?” 

“Yes.” 

After a beat, Arthur whispers, “I still love you too.” He arches his neck at the same time that Merlin lowers his, and their mouths meet in a tender, light kiss. Just like the previous few kisses they’ve shared, it’s full of unspoken emotion and passion. Merlin’s wimpy arms begin to ache from the effort of holding himself upright without touching Arthur (other than with his mouth) and Arthur seems to sense this. 

The darkness provides enough security to the both of them that it doesn’t feel too awkward when Arthur places a hand on Merlin’s clothed hip to guide the other over his own body. When Merlin doesn’t immediately relax his muscles, Arthur breaks the kiss. 

“Lay on me,” he commands, sounding slightly more like himself. “I - I just want to feel another person right now. I want to be close to someone.”

Merlin hesitates. He’s knows that once he assumes such an intimate position, he’ll have said goodbye to any denial about how he truly feels about Arthur. It would be admitting something he doesn’t feel quite ready to. But if this is what Arthur needs to feel better, Merlin is willing to do it. Besides, it might curb his own craving to be touched by another.

Arthur moves his hand upwards so that it rests just above Merlin’s trousers, fully on the bare skin. It’s the first time Arthur has ever, ever, made contact with him like this. It sends all of Merlin’s body on high alert. “Merlin. Please.”

Merlin obligues and lowers himself so that his hips are flush with Arthur’s and his elbows rest on either side of Arthur’s shoulders. “I - I don’t want to ruin anything.”

Arthur laughs. “Merlin, I think we crossed that bridge months ago. And you’ve somehow managed to stay my closest despite that.” 

Merlin chuckles. He presses another kiss to Arthur’s mouth just as the prince wraps both of his arms around Merlin’s torso, engulfing him. The feeling of having his body so tightly pressed to Arthur’s, to have his so much of his skin in contact with Arthur’s, is indescribable. 

They kiss for several more seconds when Merlin starts to feel Arthur’s tongue nudge at the seal. Merlin immediately goes into overdrive and pulls away, struggles out of Arthur’s grip, and rolls back onto his side of the bed. “Arthur, I don’t know if we should be doing this.”

“Of course we shouldn’t,” Arthur states matter-of-factly. “But that doesn’t mean that we won’t.” 

“Men shouldn’t kiss each other.”

Arthur snorts. “You don’t think I know that?”

Merlin scowls, as if Arthur could actually see it in the dark. “Well, if I was crown prince, I wouldn’t want to be caught in bed with a servant.” 

The mattress shifts as Arthur props himself up, his outline just visible to Merlin. He throws a leg over Merlin’s hips and shifts so that now his hands are on either side of Merlin’s shoulders. He pins Merlin in place, which secretly, sends butterflies to the pit of Merlin’s stomach. “Then it’s a good thing you’re not prince. Thank you for reminding me that I’m not either. Stellar work as a friend, bringing up what’s upsetting me.”

“I’m sorry.” 

Merlin then lets Arthur kiss him again with newfound passion. Arthur’s body fits perfectly against his own, and this time Merlin is the one to fold his arms around the other. He has the impulse to deepen the kiss, so with a slight tilt of his head he allows Arthur’s tongue to connect with his own. It’s a feeling he’s never felt before, this closeness to someone. He doesn’t feel lonely, pathetic, or unwanted for the first time in what feels like ages. He knows Arthur wants him, and damn, he wants Arthur too. He admits to himself that he loves Arthur more than just as a close friend. 

Morning comes, and Merlin wakes up with his leg intertwined with Arthur’s. He smiles to himself when he realized that last night wasn’t a dream, that he didn’t imagine he fell asleep kissing Arthur. A quick glance out the window lets him know that he’s slept in almost to mid-morning - time to wake Arthur for training. If he’s still allowed to train with the knights, that is. 

The prince snores softly beside him with the blankets pooled around his waist. Merlin carefully separates their bodies before prodding the fleshy part of Arthur’s arm. “Oi, clotpole. Time to wake up.” 

Arthur groans, per usual, and rolls away from Merlin. He hugs a pillow to his chest. “Give me five more minutes.” 

Merlin hops out of bed with a new spring to his step. He doesn’t even mind putting back on the clothes from the previous day and smelling like Arthur’s fancy smancy soap. Merlin says hello to everyone he passes on his way to the kitchens to pick up Arthur’s breakfast, which rewards him with an extra apple to snack on while he hikes back to Arthur’s chambers. He can’t remember the last time he felt this happy and optimistic about the day. 

Gwen turns the corner with an armload of clean laundry for Morgana. Her face lights up when she sees Merlin heading in the same direction and quickens her step. “Merlin!”

Merlin widens his smile. “Morning, Gwen!” 

She falls into pace with Merlin as they walk down the hallway. “You seem cheerful today.”

“I am,” Merlin replies, hoping not to have to elaborate. He doesn’t want to lie to Gwen. 

Gwen nods a hello to several passing knights on their way to training. Merlin is quick to do the same while hoping that Arthur is already up and dressing himself. Gwen continues their conversation with, “Arthur feeling better this morning?” 

Merlin shrugs. He’d only gotten a gruff response from sleepy Arthur, which is not abnormal. Since Arthur was able to get some sleep last night, he can’t be feeling too badly this morning. “I think so. He was still asleep fifteen minutes ago.”

Gwen laughs. “He’ll be late for training!” 

Merlin shrugs. “What’s the worst that can happen to him? He’s already lost his title, got nothing else to lose.” 

“You can’t possibly mean that,” Gwen scolds, ever the wise woman. “Arthur means more to the people than just a prince.”

Merlin shrugs as he branches off from the path, towards Arthur’s chambers. He watches Gwen disappear down the corridor to Morgana’s before he pushes past the stationed guards and into the room. 

Arthur is still snoring loudly from the bed, which isn’t a total surprise in the least. Merlin places the tray on the table and walks over to Arthur. He tosses a pillow at the prince, hitting him in the face, and causes him to bolt upright. 

“What the fuck?” Arthur exclaims. He reaches for the goblet of water Merlin had placed on his bedside table and throws it, full of water, to the other man. 

Merlin quickly turns his back and covers his head just in time, for the gobblet soaks the back of jacket a half second later. Turning back to Arthur, he scolds with a pointed finger at Arthur, “Now, that was not nice.”

“I’ll show you not nice.” Arthur throws back the blankets and tosses his legs over the side of the bed. 

Merlin laughs as Arthur stumbles over to him, still very drowsy from sleep. “What are you going to do me, throw another cup?” 

The prince grabs a fistful of Merlin’s shirt and yanks him close. In a dark, low voice, Arthur says, “Worse. I’ll turn you around and fuck you until you can’t walk straight.” 

Merlin jerks back, unsure of what to make of that. He wasn’t aware that his relationship with Arthur had taken a sexual turn after a simple night of innocent companionship.This is a step he truly does not want to take. “Arthur…”

Arthur smirks. “Don’t act like you haven’t noticed that I wake up hard most mornings.”

“What’s going on, Arthur?” Merlin steps back away from the prince. “You don’t normally talk like this. I rather liked not discussing your genitals.” 

Arthur raises his eyebrows. “Well, seeing as I’m not regent, I have no need to protect my reputation anymore. Might as well just speak my mind.”

Oh. This is what it’s all about. Merlin shakes his head and can’t help but chuckle to him. “Arthur, I told you. Catrina is a troll -”

“I said no more about that!” Arthur shouts, reaching for the nearest solid object. 

Merlin’s refluxes work fast enough that he’s able to grab Arthur’s wrist before he tosses a boot at his own head. “Stop, Arthur. You need to get dressed and go to training. The people still care about you.”

With a snort and an eyeroll, Arthur drops the boot and steps away from Merlin. “Fine.” He starts unlacing his trousers, which normally has no effect on Merlin, but the mention of a possible erection makes Merlin slightly uneasy. He turns away just as Arthur drops his pants and starts laying out Arthur’s armour. 

Once Arthur has his underclothes on, Merlin feels comfortable helping him into the rest of his get-up for training. The two don’t speak, just go through the usual motions of dressing and then sitting for a quick breakfast. Arthur seems to be back to his usual arrogant self by the end of their morning ritual, but it’s a relief when he’s gathering his things to leave for the fields. 

“Merlin?” Arthur calls just before he leaves, his helmet tucked under his arm. 

Merlin looks up from the laundry basket he’s filling with Arthur’s smelly, dirty clothes. “Yeah?”

Arthur clears his throat awkwardly. “About last night, I just wanted to say thank you. You are a good friend for staying with me.”

There is no mention of the kisses or of the small proclamations of love. As usual, it seems that they’ll be pretending those moments didn’t happen. “Of course, sire.”   
Merlin picks up the basket and joins Arthur by the door, ready to split up on their separate paths for the afternoon. He gestures towards the door with the basket, silently asking Arthur to get it for him. Instead, Arthur leans over, tilts his head towards Merlin’s, and kisses him. 

It’s a kiss full of longing and unspoken words and leaves Merlin weak in the knees. He bites his lip when they part and glances up to Arthur. The other man offers him a weak, shy smile that Merlin returns back to him. “Do you still love me?” Arthur asks. 

“No, not after you drenched me with water,” Merlin playfully snaps. A quick look of hurt flashes upon Arthur’s face, and the other hastily remedies that with, “Yes.”

“At least someone does,” Arthur mutters under his breath as he opens the door. “I’ll see you after training. I expect a hot bath and clean clothes waiting for me. I’m dining with Morgana this evening.” 

Merlin nods. “I’ll be sure to do that.” 

The two depart on their separate paths, both sneaking glances over their shoulders until the other is gone from view.


	4. Chapter 4

Merlin throws back Arthur’s curtains to let a bit of light into the room. He happily chirps, “Good morning, sire,” as he begins picking out Arthur’s clean clothes for training. 

Arthur groans, as usual, and pulls a pillow over his face. Muffled, he says, “Five more minutes.” 

“Ah,” Merlin replies. “You said that exactly five minutes ago when I first walked in.” He grabs the back of the pillow and yanks it away. “So time to get up and face the day.”

Arthur manages to shuffle himself into a sitting position with his head resting on the back of the headboard. He blinks the sleep from his eyes and runs a hand through his already unruly hair. “Did you stay the night?” 

Merlin shakes his head. In the three weeks since Uther married (and subsequently divorced) Catrina, he’d spent about two nights innocently with Arthur. Although Arthur would never admit it, Merlin has come to think that having his servant present brings him comfort. They talk long into the night about everything from the dinner’s menu to Arthur’s daddy issues. Touch is still sacred, where Merlin can count the number of times Arthur’s kissed him on one hand. 

One thing he’s learned about Arthur is that he craves feeling loved and cherished. Uther seldom expresses any affection towards his son, which leaves Arthur feeling not necessarily unwanted but alone and loveless. He desperately wants his father’s approval, but more than that he wants his father to treat him with love. After learning this, Merlin makes an effort to tell Arthur that he cares for him whenever possible. 

Merlin explains his nighttime absences to Gaius as nightmares, which causes Arthur to request Merlin’s presence. However, Merlin tries not to think about the fact that Gaius hasn’t offered Arthur a sleeping draft - something he immediately prescribes to anyone else with the same complaint. The old man knows to stay out of the business of others and leaves the two of them well alone. Merlin tries to act as normal as possible and avoid conversations about the prince. 

He still struggles to put his feelings to words. In all of his life, Merlin had never been attracted to any man. He’s not even sure that he’s attracted to Arthur sexually. It’s more of a magnetism, a friendship that’s stronger than any, that keep him hopelessly pinning after the prince. These days, the extent of their newfound relationship lingering looks by day and very occasional, light cuddling by night. Arthur has pushed for more (evident by threats of “fucking Merlin senseless”), probably as a coping mechanism for his stresses, but Merlin has been adamant. This is not a situation to be taken lightly. To Arthur, who’s never had to struggle or want for anything, this is a hard concept to grasp. 

Merlin tosses a set of clean clothes onto the bed before Arthur. “Your father wants you in court this morning. Knighting ceremony.” 

Arthur rolls his eyes. “What else is new?” He tosses back the blankets and throws his legs over the side of the bed. 

Merlin turns away to set out the prince’s breakfast spread. “Are you able to dress yourself this morning?” He plops a bright red strawberry into his mouth. 

“I saw that!”

Merlin glances over his shoulder to see a very naked Arthur, preparing to step into his trousers. Something stirs in his belly. He opens his mouth as if to speak, then decides better of it. He doesn’t really want to look at unclothed Arthur for more than necessary and turns back to preparing breakfast. 

Arthur raises his eyebrows. “Yes, Merlin?”

“I was just going to ask if you wanted butter on your toast,” Merlin lies. For emphasis, he picks up the butter dish and places a knife beside it. 

A hand claps his back roughly a moment later. Arthur whispers in his ear, “You can’t lie to me, Merlin. I know you too well.” 

Merlin smiles as he plucks another berry into his mouth and ducks to avoid the boot that comes flying through the air at him.

After the ceremony, a small celebratory feast follows. Arthur looks utterly distraught as the festivities proceed. And rightfully so - this is a matter of honor and pride. Uther even looks uneasy. To lose a fight is one this, to injure or kill a woman intentionally is another altogether. Arthur drowns himself in wine and food as a way to avoid conversation. Merlin watches from the side with the other servants, a fresh pitcher already in his hand. 

Gwen nudges him gently with her elbow. “You can feel the tension in here.” 

Merlin nods. Even a few of the knights are whispering to each other, stealing glances at the high table. “Yeah. I feel bad for him.”

“I wonder what he’ll do,” Gwen whispers. “I can’t imagine Arthur hurting an innocent woman.”

Merlin shakes his head in agreement. Arthur would never hurt an innocent. He doesn’t want to dwell on the alternative - that Arthur will die protecting his honor. Luckily, the prince appears to finish the last drops of his drink and gestures towards Merlin to come fill it. Serving provides a small diversion from his worries, especially since he always seems to spill the wine whenever he pours it. After excusing himself from conversation with Gwen by nodding towards his master, the man makes his way to the high table. 

Merlin moves to refill the prince’s glass, but tilts his head slightly towards Arthur’s ear. Out of the corner of his mouth, he whispers, “I love you. Now stop looking like a miserable clotpole.” 

Arthur smiles into his hand. The prince reaches over and lightly bumps Merlin’s arm with his elbow. This, of course, causes him to spill the wine over Merlin interprets this as a thank you before retreating back to Gwen. 

“What did you say to him?” she asks. “He’s smiling for the first time all meal.”

Merlin shrugs. “I told him that I’ll bring him more wine tonight,” he lies.

Gwen shakes her head. “That’s fine, you don’t have to tell me.”

“Am I really that terrible of a liar?” 

Gwen laughs. “Definitely.”

She then departs to cater to Morgana and Uther, casting Arthur a grin as she passes. Merlin tightens his grip on the jug. He still has not come to terms with Arthur and Gwen’s kiss months ago or flirting that accompanied it. The girl seems smitten with the prince while Arthur soaks up the attention. It’s not a topic the two of them discuss, but Merlin’s certain that it feeds into the “need to feel loved” complex Arthur nurses. As if Merlin isn’t good enough for that. 

Training and the subsequent activities go as normal for the remainder of the day. Arthur seems distant, rightfully so, and immune to the words of encouragement from the other knights. His heart isn’t into the exercises or the sparring, which is a first. Arthur always strives to make a good example for the younger knights. Merlin watches from the sidelines as he mends shirts and sharpens blades, trying not to think about the choice Arthur will have to make. Deep down, Merlin knows he’ll end up letting Morgause kill him over having to hurt her himself. He shakes the thought away. 

The stress keeps Arthur from eating a proper dinner that night or from doing anything other than staring aimlessly into the fire. Merlin sits beside him, going through his list of chores, and provides Arthur silent company. After many hours of this, Merlin decides it’s time to put Arthur to bed and that he’s going to be spending the night. If this is Arthur’s last night, Merlin wants to be there. He wants to feel his best friend breathing beside him and to have the comfort of another. 

“Come on,” Merlin prods, poking Arthur in the arm. “Let’s go to bed.”

Arthur stretches his arms overhead and rolls his head to crack his stiff neck. The audible pop is no doubt a direct result from being stationary for so long. The prince stands, kicking the feeling back into his legs. “You’re staying?”

Merlin nods and moves to prepare the fire for the night. He hears Arthur throw aside pillows and peels back the heavy blankets. The mattress creaks slightly from the prince’s weight and he hears the soft thud of Arthur’s boots drop to the floor. Merlin joins him moments later as Arthur is peeling off his shirt. As usual, the two of them remain on two opposite sides of the bed. It’s not until the candle is blown out that they dare touch each other. 

Arthur is the first to speak after the flame is killed. “This is my last night.”

“Don’t,” Merlin replies. “Don’t say that.” 

“It’s true. I can’t kill Morgause. It’s a violation of the knight’s code if I do.” 

Merlin rolls onto his side to face Arthur. He can see the outline of the prince’s body but nothing more. “We’ll find a way around that, like always.”

“Tell me you love me,” Arthur requests. “If this is my last night, I want to feel loved, cherished, and needed by someone.” 

“I will never leave you,” Merlin whispers into the dark. He tugs on Arthur’s arm to pull him to his side of the bed. When the prince is settled, Merlin places his hand on Arthur’s jaw. He rubs his thumb against the stubble he finds there. “I’d do anything for you, Arthur. You are my best friend, my confidant, and literally the only reason I get up in the morning. I want you to know that you are loved. And by none more than me.”

Arthur places his hand on Merlin’s cheek and guides their mouths together. He wraps his arms around Merlin’s body, folding their bodies together. When they break, Arthur says, “Let me make love to you tonight. Let me show you how much you mean to me.” 

Merlin pulls back. He searches for any vague traces of a joke on Arthur’s face. This is bridge they haven’t crossed for a reason; it feels too big a step for their relationship. It would turn their hidden, secretive relationship into a much more tangled mess, which would inevitably turn to hurt once Arthur decided to marry. Instead of voicing these concerns, Merlin says, “I’m not even sure how that would work.”

“I’ve heard the knights joke around about it,” Arthur says. “You have to put… it up some bloke’s rear.”

“Lovely.” Merlin can’t say he didn’t see that coming. “And apparently I’m going to be the one with a cock up my ass?” 

“Well, I’m certainly not going to allow it.”

Merlin rolls onto his back and out of Arthur’s grasp. He feels Arthur do the same. “Then I guess it isn’t happening.”

Arthur doesn’t reply for a long minute. “Fine,” he huffs. “I’ll do it.” 

Now, Merlin thinks, that was quite unexpected. He feels something stir deep in his belly at the thought of being with Arthur intimately, especially with the prince in that position. “Arthur, we really don’t have to do this.”

Arthur rolls onto his side again to face Merlin. He draps an arm across the man’s waist and pulls him flush against his own body. “I want to be close with you in a way I haven’t with anyone else before.”

Merlin turns his head to look at the prince. He’d heard so many rumours about Arthur’s encounters with women from the knights that he’d been certain Arthur was experienced. He’d heard women in the chambers before and assumed… “So the gossip was false.”

“Very,” Arthur replies. “I’ve fooled around, sure, but never anything more. I want it to be meaningful.” He leans down to kiss Merlin passionately, tongue sliding down between his lips. The men wrap their arms around each other, tangling every limb. Arthur’s hand cradles the back of Merlin’s head as he gently rolls the other man on top. The blankets twist around their ankles. 

During the movement, Merlin feels Arthur’s hard-on press against his thigh. It’s a bulge he’s seen many times throughout his employment, but never up close or touched. He’d gotten used to ignoring it after the years, accepting it as a fact of life. His own erection rubs slightly against Arthur’s as he adjusts his body comfortably on top of the prince’s. Arthur moans into Merlin’s mouth. 

The sound is so foreign to Merlin that he wants to hear it again. He adds a little extra weight to his hips and gyrates slightly. The pleasure ripples through his own body and is mirrored in Arthur’s. 

Arthur breaks the kiss and let his head fall back onto the pillow. He flutters his hands to Merlin’s hips, where fingernails dig into skin. Suddenly, Arthur bucks his own pelvis slightly. Merlin arches his back in pleasure. They spend the next few moments rubbing against each other, the air filled with their desperate gasps and moans. 

Tentatively, Merlin rolls off of Arthur. He’s ready for more, but he feels slightly awkward asking for it. Instead, he reaches to expertly undo the laces on Arthur’s trousers. 

“Oh, Merlin,” Arthur moans as the servant tugs them down over his hips. The prince’s erection flops back onto his belly, full and fat. From there, Merlin isn’t sure what to do. He feels a blush creep up his neck. 

Luckily, Arthur has other ideas. He sits up and reaches for Merlin’s waist. The prince yanks down Merlin’s own pants, thus rendering both men stark naked. A few seconds passed as the two of them take in the sight of the other, Arthur more so than Merlin. It’s the first time the servant has ever been this exposed in his presence. The prince trails his fingers down Merlin’s collarbone, down his flank, to his hips, and then grace his inner thighs. 

“Yours is bigger than mine,” Arthur nonchalantly comments, thumbs gently rubbing circles into Merlin’s skin. 

Merlin snorts. “Don’t even get that started.” 

“I suppose mine in fatter, though,” Arthur sighs. He glances quickly up to meet Merlin’s eyes. Tentatively, the prince reaches forward and loosely grasps Merlin’s member in his hand. The other man’s breath hitches at the touch. Arthur appears to take this as encouragement, for he tightens his grip. 

Merlin moans involuntarily. “Fuck, Arthur.” 

Arthur gently pushes Merlin off of himself and onto the bed beside him. He takes Merlin tightly in his hand to begin moving up and down the shaft. He uses his other hand to massage Merlin’s balls. “I like it like this when I’m by myself.”

“Fuck,” Merlin breathes. His mind is full of images of Arthur laying on this bed, playing with himself after Merlin leaves. He can’t believe that is happening, that Arthur is bringing him sexual pleasure in a way nobody else has before. His toes curl. “This is... nice.” 

Arthur reaches for Merlin’s hand and places it on his own cock. Merlin tightens around it just as Arthur did for him. He slowly moves up and down, mimicking Arthur. The prince drops his head down onto the pillows, eyes closed. “Shit. This is nice.” 

They lazily toy with each other’s cocks, sneaking kisses and moaning all the same. Merlin is lost in waves of pleasure. He’s barely even aware of the mess their sexual fluids are making all over the usual pristine sheets. Soon, his hand is sticky with Arthur’s precome. 

“I’m ready,” Arthur finally says, his member still weeping all over Merlin’s hand. “I want us to be together.” 

Merlin pushes himself up using his elbows. He gently kisses Arthur, pouring all the love and unspoken feelings into it. His entire heart belongs to this man, and he’s finally going to be able to show it to him. Merlin nudges Arthur’s legs apart. 

Arthur stares straight up at the ceiling, arms splayed wide, as Merlin ghosts his fingertips south. Truly, he has no idea what he’s doing but knows what he’s looking for. It feels so… wrong to have his hand deep between the prince’s legs, in an intimate space that nobody else has been before. Arthur’s breath hitches when Merlin finally finds the entrance. 

“Do I just… put it in?” Merlin tentatively asks. He forces himself to look at the hole. “I don’t think I’ll fit.” 

Arthur props himself up onto his elbows to look down at Merlin. “Then I guess you’ll have to fix that.” 

Merlin shakes his head. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

Arthur fully sits up and takes Merlin’s face gently in his hands. “I want to be with you as one. I don’t care about any pain or discomfort. I just want you.” 

The kiss that follows gives Merlin the courage to probe a finger delicately inside of the prince. Arthur’s face contorts slightly, but he demands that Merlin continue. It’s too dry, Merlin decides. He needs something to ease into Arthur. 

The servant withdraws, promises to be right back, and runs across the room to Arthur’s chest of drawers. He rifles through until he finds the small vial of medical lubricant, used to ease on bandages and remove splinters. It should be safe enough to use internally. He hopes. And it does work wonders. After a few long moments of very gentle stretching, Merlin makes the call that it’s time to move along. 

“You ready?” he asks Arthur. His cock is already aligned at the entrance and a pillow is tucked underneath Arthur’s hips, making the angle much more suitable. 

The prince nods his head quickly. 

Both men moan as Merlin pushes inside. The servant lowers his body over Arthur’s and kisses his collarbone. The feeling of being completely enveloped inside of Arthur is euphoric, so much so that he’s worried he’ll climax. Arthur tightens around him, clearly in discomfort, so Merlin resists the urge to move. He tries not to be worried when he feels Arthur’s cock start to soften.

As if sensing this, Arthur wraps his arms around Merlin’s torso and buries his face into the other’s hair. “I love you, Merlin,” he whispers. “I want you to know that.”

Merlin kisses the base of Arthur’s neck. “I love you too, Arthur.” 

With that, Merlin feels Arthur relax. He begins to thrust his hips. The movements are slow and shallow at first to allow Arthur to adjust to the motion. It isn’t until the look of discomfort fully melts from Arthur’s face and the prince’s cock starts to stand tall again that Merlin gives in to his instincts. The air is soon filled with desperate moans, the obscene slapping of skin, and Arthur’s slew of curses. Each thrust threatens to bring him to climax, and eventually he doesn’t think he can hold it back anymore. 

“Arthur, I think I’m going to - Shit!” Merlin can’t stop this wave from pushing him over the edge. With a loud groan, he shoots his load deep inside of his lover. 

Arthur lifts his hips and starts fisting his own cock, hard and fast, and soon he’s spilling down onto his own stomach. “Fuck, Merlin, fuck.”

The two men stare at each other, panting heavily after their climaxes. Arthur’s skin has a sheen of sweat and his hair sticks to his forehead similar to how it does after a training. Merlin loves how vulnerable this moment is. For the first time in years, he feels overwhelmed with love. With his cock still inside of Arthur, he bends down and kisses him. He feels Arthur’s ejaculate smear across his stomach.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Merlin gently says. Arthur doesn’t protest as Merlin takes a wet rag to his torso, whisking away any remnants of their lovemaking, before soaking up what he can of the come leaking from Arthur. It’s a little awkward. He slips back into the sheets after cleaning up, finds Arthur’s warm body, and rests his head on the man’s shoulder. The prince adjusts to that Merlin is situated at his side. A gentle, affectionate hand toys with the stray locks of Merlin’s hair. 

This moment will always be precious to Merlin. It truly shows how much the two men mean to each other, that they wanted to tie their lives together in a very permanent way. Merlin knows that whatever happens tomorrow, he will be able to say that he’ll forever hold Arthur’s virginity and that the prince will die holding his.

After the duel and in the safety of Arthur’s chambers, the first thing Merlin does is throw his arms around Arthur and kiss him. When they part, he says, “I knew you would make the right choice.” 

Arthur scoffs and shrugs out of Merlin’s arms. “I still got defeated by a fucking girl.” 

Merlin hands the prince a jug of water. “And you reek. What else is new?” 

Arthur sits in his chair, slumps over, and gestures for Merlin to remove his armour. Merlin deft fingers do their job, and he smiles to himself. Right now, all is right in the world.


End file.
